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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25375627">Blackbird</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/notfortunesfool/pseuds/notfortunesfool'>notfortunesfool</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hannibal (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dark Will Graham, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Married Couple, Murder Husbands, Sharing a Bed, Will Graham Has Encephalitis, Will Graham Knows</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:27:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,357</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25375627</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/notfortunesfool/pseuds/notfortunesfool</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter have been married for years. They sleep, drive, kill, shower, and dine together. They have a semi-long-distance relationship, but spend most nights together. One of their nights apart, Will has a nightmare of a stag leading him onto the road and wakes up with police lights in his face.</p><p>(I swear the story is better than the summary.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>293</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Blackbird</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Having to watch Hannibal drive away to go meet with a patient has always been one of Will’s least favorite things. Not just one of his least favorite things about Hannibal’s profession, but in general. He sits on his porch, a finger of whiskey in his hand and another next to him. Will thinks he has been sitting on the porch for almost an hour now. It’s dark outside and his dogs are all in the dining room. Will finishes the whiskey and casts aside the plastic cup, picking up the second one and downing the contents in one swallow. The stars that would normally be visible in the sky are mostly obscured by clouds.<em> Is it raining in Baltimore right now? Is Hannibal looking upon the same clouds?</em></p><p>Will is staying at his own house, alone. It's on nights like these that he truly misses his husband. When they first got married years ago, both found it mutually beneficial for them to have a somewhat long distance relationship. Will could not yet stomach the idea of living in the city at Hannibal’s ornate house full time, knowing he would feel uncomfortable with the size of the house and claustrophobic with the lack of distance between himself and neighbors. Besides that, Will needed the field surrounding his house so his dogs had a place to exert their energy, and the nearest river to his Wolf Trap home was less than a ten minute walk away. Hannibal knew it would be impossible for him to not live in Baltimore because he needed to see patients on a regular basis and Will’s kitchen was far too small for how elaborate his cooking could be. With this in mind, the agreement was made. Now, Will wishes he lived with Hannibal full time. They spend, on average, five nights a week together split between Baltimore and Wolf Trap, but recently that hasn’t been enough.</p><p>Normally the lack of Hannibal's company just results in a constant dull ache in the back of his mind, longing for his beloved. He finds it a little bit discomforting how he aches for him, or, rather, how he’s okay with Hannibal having such tight hold on him. Until Hannibal's fingers are laced with his or their lips are pressed together again, reminding Will he is there, the ache remains unsated. Tonight, however, the pain of the ache has elevated to a stabbing sensation, not unlike some of the feeling of some of the wounds he has amassed over the years.</p><p>Will blinks and suddenly the sky has gotten several shades darker. His watch reads 10:30. Hannibal had left nearly three hours ago, and Will has no idea where time has gone. His mouth feels dry, and he reaches over to the cup he’d drained earlier. As expected, it is empty. Standing up on shaky legs, both cups now in hand, Will goes back inside, rinsing out the cups and then tossing them into the recycling bin. He then curses himself for not pouring some water into one before tossing it. Sheepishly, he turns on the faucet and puts his head into the sink to drink straight from it, something he knows his husband would <em>tsk</em> at if he could see him. No matter what he does, his thoughts always go back to Hannibal.</p><p>Weaving carefully through the sea of dogs on his floor, Will reaches the chair in front of his desk and sits down. Strewn across the surface of his desk are his fly-fishing lures, his most recent work standing proudly in front of him. He wants to work on it more; it’s still unfinished and he would love to add a new lure to his collection. Then he feels another sharp stab of pain in his head. <em>I can’t work like this. </em>Will decides to turn in relatively early, knowing he will have nightmares. He is hoping that, by going to sleep sooner rather than later, he will have a better chance of getting more rest after he's woken up all sweaty and cold from his dream.</p><p>After turning off all of the lights, save for the one in the corner of the living room that illuminates the area where the dogs can do their nightly business if need be, Will goes upstairs. He foregoes brushing his teeth, just gargles some tap water and uses the toilet before padding towards his room, subdued.</p><p>When Will enters the room, he thinks of Hannibal.</p><p>Will knows his sense of smell will never be as finely attuned as Hannibal's, but he picks up on the slight waft of Hannibal's soap still lingering in the room from hours before. He and Hannibal had sat together in bed, Will nestled between Hannibal's legs, and read through one of Hannibal's more interesting psychological journals as Hannibal wanted to spend some time with his husband before heading back up to Baltimore. Will had protested on his husband's behalf <em>("You'll have less than an hour to spend with me before having to drive back up for your session," he'd explained over the phone.</em></p><p><em>"You are my lifeblood, Will. I only see so much of you as it is, and cherish every moment I am graciously allowed. If given the opportunity to drive a thousand hours, only on the off chance that I could see you for a second, mylimasis, I would accept in an instant," Hannibal had replied, and Will knew not to argue with Hannibal at moments like these. One wrong word and Hannibal would be waxing poetic.)</em> but had given in and less than an hour later, Hannibal was at his doorstep greeting him, as always, with a passionate kiss. Will felt devoured.</p><p>
  <em>"Never satisfied, are you? Always hungry for more."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"As if you wouldn't shatter if you lost me," Hannibal teased, though they both knew this to be true. They were conjoined after years of love and truth and pain brought them back together again and again, both knowing neither could truly survive separation.</em>
</p><p>On nights like these, Will remembers how wholly co-dependent he and Hannibal are.</p><p>Will slowly undresses and redresses into more comfortable clothing. He decides not to change his boxers because he's too tired; it certainly isn't because the silky underwear belongs to Hannibal. Will draws back the covers and settles himself in the bed, head on the pillow Hannibal had used earlier to more comfortably prop himself up. Will closes his eyes and breathes in deeply. He can smell his husband though he is not there. As Will pulls up the blanket, the sheet of warmth that spreads over him tricks him for a moment that he's somehow with Hannibal. It doesn't help Will's distant sense of reality that something large is moving next to him.</p><p>"Hannibal," he calls out into the darkness, voice laced with exhaustion. <em>It can’t be him. Am I already dreaming?</em> The only response he gets is a slight, wet intake of breath. Then fur is rubbing against his face. "Winston," he amends, reaching out to blindly stroke his fur coat. "Sleep well, Win." The words are directed towards his dog, but they're truly meant for him. Of course, Will finds that he'd be baffled if he sleeps well that night, but miracles do sometimes occur. Will hopes for a miracle.</p><p>He does not get one.</p><p>Will wakes up - or, rather, doesn't wake up - in his dream in his bed. He's hot and Winston is curled up at his feet and the room is darker than before. Something is in front of the window, blocking the moonlight from coming in. Will takes a second to sit up, waking Winston up in the process. His eyes water for a second as the pain in his head reaches a momentary crescendo. He goes temporarily blind.</p><p>When his eyes focus, a gigantic stag is standing in the room with him. Black, slightly shaggy, and staring directly at him, Will is certain this is a dream. Lucid dreaming is not something he's researched extensively, but he's read enough to know it must be what he's experiencing. The stag is an ominous fixture in the room; Will finds himself incapable of looking away from it, hypnotized. The stag's eyes meet his and then glance upwards. Will's eyes move up and land on the stag's antlers, already large and now growing larger, extending toward the ceiling.</p><p>He wonders what Hannibal will make of this dream when Will tells him about it in the morning.</p><p>Will starts to pull the covers off of himself, realizing that the fabric he's holding is damp. He'd sweated through his shirt. Will slides his legs over the side of the bed and stands up, Winston slipping off of the bed after him. At once, the stag begins to move. Will, instinctually, follows.</p><p>He is led down the steps and into the main room, past the mass of dogs slumbering on the floor. A couple lift their heads up, the combination of his scent and the noise having woken them up. Will waves them off.</p><p>He does not remember getting through the door- he knows (thinks) he did not open it just then and it would have been impossible for the stag to open it in his stead - but in an instant he is standing on his wooden porch and the cool night air is chilling him in his damp nightclothes. Still, he continues to follow the stag. He tries to catch up to it, but by the time he has reached where it once stood, it is several feet ahead of him. <em>This can't be real.</em></p><p>Will has no idea where it is leading him, he follows blindly and patiently. There's something calming about the experience. He almost feels like he's walking with himself. He also, interestingly, feels as though Hannibal is with him too. The stabbing pain has been replaced with an ache so light he can hardly feel it. He tries to catch up to the stag again. Suddenly it feels darker than before, then lighter, and he's not sure if the stag is there anymore. He wonders if this is what it's like to wake up from a lucid dream.</p><p>He blinks.</p><p>The pain is back and puts him in twice as much agony as ever before. Lights are coming towards him. Red, white, and blue. It's something... patriotic? He's about to die and about to die for his country. The lights get closer - they're all he can see now.</p><p>He blinks.</p><p>The lights stop right in front of him and his vision becomes clearer. Two police officers are walking in front of the lights. It makes sense, red and blue for the police lights, white for the headlights.</p><p>Will knows he isn't going to die. He doesn't take comfort in it. He doesn't have to, this is still just a dream, <em>right?</em></p><p>"You alright there, sir?" Will barely hears them. <em>Is this real?</em> Is he not dreaming?</p><p>"Huh..."</p><p>"Sir," the officer says, a little louder. "Sir, what is your name?"</p><p>He's gone through that line of questioning with himself and Hannibal more times in the past weeks than he can count. He looks down at his watch. <em>My name is Will Graham-Lecter. It is 3:47 am. I am in- am I in Wolf Trap, Virginia?</em></p><p>"Sir," the officer nearly shouts. "Sir, can you hear me? What is your name?"</p><p>"Will Graham-Lecter." The officer and their partner visibly relax at his response. Will, as disoriented as he is, tries to stay calm. With what he and his husband do in their free time, it would be hardly preferable for them to become suspicious of him. </p><p>"Mr. Graham-Lecter, do you know where you are? Do you live near here?"</p><p>Will pauses and slowly replies, "I live in Wolf Trap, Virginia." Before he can ask if he's in Wolf Trap, the officer lets out a relieved sigh and answers the question for him.</p><p>"That's good; you're in Wolf Trap right now. Hey- is that yours?" The officer is looking slightly to the right of Will. Will turns.</p><p>"Oh, hey Winston." He faces the officers again, scratching Winston's ears. "Do you hav-"</p><p>"Have you been drinking, sir? Doing any drugs?"</p><p>"No," Will says, a little startled at the blunt interruption. "Well, yes, but I just had a couple of fingers of whiskey before bed. So not excessively."</p><p>"Do you have a history of sleepwalking?" No, he doesn't. <em>But was I sleepwalking?</em></p><p>"No." He shifts on his feet and is surprised to find that they feel sore and raw. "Can I sit down?"</p><p>They lead Will and Winston into the backseat of the car. Will starts to come to his senses more and, in looking at Winston, remembers the stag and thinks of Hannibal.</p><p>"Is there someone we can call for you," the officer asks once they're all seated in the car. Will looks up from Winston and notices the officer's gaze on his wedding ring.</p><p>"Can I use your phone, please," Will asks, hoping he seems polite rather than desperate. The officer that has yet to speak hands him her phone from the passenger seat. He does not thank her, just urgently types in the number of Hannibal's second phone. Hannibal had purchased it so that Will could call him from any number and he would know to answer. Will had thought this to be an unnecessary precaution, but now deems it to be one of Hannibal's more brilliant decisions.</p><p>He taps the call button feverishly, starting to sweat again. Winston lays his head in Will's lap and licks at his hand resting on his knee. Winston's always been good at comforting him. Will raises the phone to his ear and hopes beyond hope that Hannibal will pick up.</p><p>"Hello, Will," Hannibal says evenly, though his accent is thick in the way it always is when Hannibal has just roused himself. The stabbing pain is once again reduced to an ache.</p><p>"Hannibal," he breathes out needily, his voice hushed as he's acutely aware of the fact that the cops in front of him are attempting to listen to his every word. "Hannibal, I need you."</p><p>There is a noise on the other end of the line. He can hear Hannibal's steady breathing.</p><p>"I'm on the road off from my house in a police car." Somehow, Will knows that by mentioning this, he has made Hannibal go still all the way in Baltimore. "Everything's okay," he reassures him. "No crimes tonight," he says vaguely. Will hears a change in Hannibal's breathing, so slight that anyone else wouldn't have picked up on it. It's the closest thing Hannibal ever makes to a sigh of relief.</p><p>"I'll be there in twenty minutes. Are you alright, my teacup?"</p><p>"Yes, I'm fine. I just can't go back home tonight. Please."</p><p>"Do not doubt me, beloved. I have promised to be your paddle and partner in life and in death. I am coming." Will lets out an actual sigh of relief at that, clutching the phone like a lifeline. His other hand is resting against Winston, his fingers tangled in his soft fur.</p><p>"I love you," Will tells his husband. Hannibal never fails to show up when he needs him, tonight is no exception. <em>What did I do to deserve such a perfect man?</em></p><p>"And I you, Will."</p><p>"Would you stay on the line with me until you arrive?"</p><p>"If the person whose phone you are borrowing would not find it impolite for me to do so, then yes." Will glances up, having completely forgotten the others were there.</p><p>"Um," he starts, rather sheepishly, "may I use the phone until my partner arrives? It'll only be twenty minutes or so."</p><p>The officer and their silent partner meet eyes.</p><p>"It's only twenty minutes," they say agreeably, more about the time waiting than the phone. The partner nods. "Sure."</p><p>"They say it's okay," Will informs his husband, not immediately expecting a reply. He's likely already five minutes on the road and speeding in order to get there quickly. "You're being safe, right?"</p><p>"I gathered from the officer's statements that it would be okay. Yes, I am driving safely, Will, just not on our usual route." Will faintly hears the sound of a car swerving, unsure if its Hannibal or a different driver, but he defers to his husband's judgement. If he says he's being safe, he's safe.</p><p>"How have you been since I last saw you," Will asks. He's not normally one to initiate small talk, or to partake in it either, but he needs to hear Hannibal's voice and doesn't want to discuss what just happened over the phone, much less in front of others.</p><p>"The drive to the office was fairly pleasant and I arrived on time to the appointment." Hannibal's voice is slow and clear. He knows how partial Will is to his voice and is intentionally speaking deliberately and rhythmically for Will's benefit, as he had done dozens and dozens of times before when Will found himself unable to sleep. "I cannot divulge anything about the appointment for obvious reasons," Hannibal continues, "but the patient did not leave me in any state of emotional strain in the aftermath. I forewent cooking an elaborate meal and reheated some of the leftovers from last night on the stove with a rosemary and amandine garnish-"</p><p>"Is that the kind with pecans," Will interjects.</p><p>"No, my dear Will. Amandine is the correct, French spelling of the word almondine. Besides, pecans are hardly the proper garnish for the savory meal I prepared for myself. And, teacup, you are only to listen right now. I will be there with you any minute now. Refrain from speaking again until I arrive."</p><p>Will does not vocalize his affirmation of Hannibal's order as to do so would be to immediately disobey it.</p><p>"Good boy," Hannibal says, making Will's heart flutter a little. "I am turning onto your road now. To continue: I finished my meal and I then spent a moment or two reciting my composition on the harpsichord, which I hope to play for you soon. Admittedly, the drive back from your home did tire me despite my willingness to do it, so I went to bed soon after. I did spend a few minutes stargazing before I retired." </p><p>Will is suddenly reminded of the time he spent staring at the sky and the clouds, thinking about Hannibal. He feels warm.</p><p>"I see you, teacup. May I hang up now?" Always the gentleman, Hannibal.</p><p>"Yes, my love." He hears a beep come from the phone to signal that the call has ended at the exact second he hears a car door open and shut from behind the police car. All three heads turn to see an incredibly sophisticated man approaching them. He walks up to the driver's side window and knocks. The officer rolls down the window in surprise.</p><p>"Hello, officer. I am Doctor Hannibal Lecter-Graham. It seems my husband has been waiting for my arrival in the back of your police vehicle. May I retrieve him and his pet into my custody?" The officer looks baffled at how well spoken Hannibal is, at the fact that the man looks well rested and is wearing a plaid suit at four in the morning, but mostly at the fact that Hannibal is, indeed, wearing a wedding ring that is outwardly identical to Will's (the only difference between them is that Will's has <em>mylimasis </em>engraved in Hannibal's Lithuanian on the inside of his where Hannibal's is instead inscribed with the word <em>b</em><em>eloved</em> in Will's English.)</p><p>"Yes, of course," the officer splutters. Even their still-silent partner looks stunned. Hannibal moves back and opens the left door of the backseat, immediately extending a hand to his husband. Will takes it without thinking and allows himself to be pulled out of the car and swept onto his feet by his husband.</p><p>"Hannibal," Will croaks, letting Hannibal envelop him in an embrace. He feels weightless; all of the pain in his head and feet is gone.</p><p>"Will," Hannibal replies. He can feel Hannibal everywhere even though he's not even touching Hannibal's skin at all. He feels warm and protected, like he's inside a fire, despite the metaphor of this being inherently contradictory. Flame is destructive and hot, but the feeling of flames licking at his skin, encompassing him in his entirety, is the only way he can describe Hannibal and his touch. He feels bright, alive, and known. Seen.</p><p>Except he also feels extinguished, exposed and cold. Will remembers they are being watched. </p><p>"Take me home," Will says, looking into Hannibal's eyes. Hannibal nods, then thanks the officers for taking care of him. Will, in the meantime, turns and coaxes Winston over to him from the right backseat. He lifts him up and into his arms, surprised that he's able to hold him despite his shakiness. Hannibal puts a steady hand on his shoulder and leads Will back to his Bentley, helping him set Winston into the backseat. Will slips into the passenger's seat just as Hannibal sits down in the driver's, back straight and eyes bright.</p><p>"You should rest during the drive back, Will. I'll be taking the route I arrived here on, but I will not be speeding as much for your sake. It will take us at least half an hour to arrive home. At that point, we will talk and then get some more rest."</p><p>"Sounds good," Will tells him, too tired to talk more. "I'd like to hold your hand while I rest." Hannibal, after checking rhat Winston is secure and Will has his seatbelt on, puts the car in reverse and spins it around so they will be driving in the right direction.</p><p>"I may need to take my hand back if we encounter any unsafe drivers," Hannibal says gently, but he extends his hand towards Will nonetheless. He sets it against Will's thigh and Will quickly takes it, languidly lacing their fingers together as Hannibal starts to drive.</p><p>"Okay," he says sleepily, both in response to his husband's words and as a statement. Will settles against comfortable leather headrest attached to his seat and lets his mind wander. He doesn't fall asleep or, at least, he doesn't think he does. If this night has proven anything, it's that he's having some trouble distinguishing dreams from reality. He vaguely remembers a trick Hannibal had taught him years ago when showing him how to expand his mind palace.</p><p>
  <em>"You must learn to distinguish reality from the depths of your mind, mylimasis," Will thinks Hannibal had said. "One trick I've seen that has helped some recognize the traits of a dream is counting one's fingers. I, of course, was born with six, so this especially works well for me. It is a common phenomena that, when deep inside one's head, one tends to have an extra finger or lack a finger instead." He had then told Will to examine his hands. To his surprise, he found that, while he did have five fingers on his right hand, he was sporting a sixth on his left.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"See anything," Hannibal had asked.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Yes," he'd breathed out. "Oh, yes."</em>
</p><p>Will looks at his fingers on his right hand now, finding only five. He would check his left hand, but he decides he'd rather not know if he's dreaming than let go of Hannibal's hand. Unfortunately, Hannibal's hand is pulled away not a minute later, as if Hannibal somehow knew what he had been thinking.</p><p>"We are home," Hannibal says, unbuckling his seatbelt.</p><p><em>No</em>, Will thinks. <em>You are home. You are my home. Don't you get it? I've been home this whole time.</em></p><p>"Yes," he says, unfeeling. There is an air of calm wafting through the now open driver's side door. Will unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the car to retrieve Winston.</p><p>"I've got him, Will. You go inside. Take the keys." Will takes the keys and their fingers brush together when he does, making Will's heart flutter. He's been with the man for nearly a decade, married to him for about half of that time, and still his body will betray him like he's a lovesick boy needy for his crush's attention. It's boyish, it's weak and pathetic. He should hate it, but Hannibal doesn't, so neither does he. Hannibal, in spite of all his pretentiousness (or perhaps because of his pretentiousness), loves beautiful things. When he finds something beautiful, he loves all of it; he loves the beautiful things and the things most would condider flaws, because they too are beautiful to him. Will has been called beautiful by his husband more times than he can count. Hannibal loves how Will still sometimes gets a little lovesick with him. They are always aching for each other anyway.</p><p>Will goes up to the door and unlocks it, holding it open so Hannibal can carry Winston inside. The dog is passed out in Hannibal's arms, and Hannibal's regal eyes are sparkling. Will falls in love with him all over again in an instant. He follows the two of them in, locking the door again behind him. </p><p>"Now," Hannibal says once he has placed the dog carefully on the floor. "We shall retire to bed momentarily, but not before you tell me every detail of your night since I left. And, unlike our phone call, beloved, this is not small talk. You may omit pieces if necessary, but only if you are to tell me that you are omitting something and agree that you will divulge your omissions with me later today. Is this clear?"</p><p>"I don't need to keep anything from you, Hannibal. Neither of us can live without the other. We're conjoined if not practically two halves of the same whole." Hannibal processes this, then slips his feet out of his loafers. Watching this, Will shifts on his own and winces in pain. Hannibal catches the sight change of expression on Will's face.</p><p>"Then we shall talk. Let me take you to bed. I can massage your feet and make them less sore. Come." He beckons for Will and then starts towards their bedroom, Will quickly falling into step with him. Will stands still when Hannibal tells him to, lets Hannibal peel off his sweaty clothes and toss them into a corner. He sees the glint of possessiveness that appears in Hannibal's eyes as he recognizes the underwear. He offers Will a soft, pure cotton tee shirt, which Will gladly accepts. He is then handed a clean pair of boxers, which he dons quickly too. Will lets Hannibal lead him to the bed, positioning himself so that Hannibal can have easy access to his feet. Hannibal, whose hands hold the skill of a practiced surgeon, is sure to allieve the soreness almost at once.</p><p>"I didn't do much for a while after you left," Will begins. "Got myself two cups of whiskey, one finger each, and sat on the porch until it grew too dark. I stargazed as much as I could with the clouds obscuring my view. I thought about you. I wondered if you were staring at the sky at the same time as I. It seems I may have been. We're connected, after all." Will pauses, sighing contentedly at the thought and at the feeling of Hannibal touching him.</p><p>"Teacup," Hannibal says, his tone chastising, reminding him of the point of this late night conversation.</p><p>"Right, yes. After... after almost three hours, I went back inside. My head was aching. I lost myself a bit. The time went a lot faster than it felt like it did. I thought I'd been out there for an hour at most." He pauses, allowing Hannibal time he doesn't need to process these words. "I went back inside and almost continued working on one of my lures. It was one of the ones you supplied some of the materials for. As soon as I sat down, my head ached worse. It was like I was being stabbed. It was amplified from the normal ache."</p><p>"Do you know the cause of the ache," Hannibal asks, though something in Will tells him he knows the answer already.</p><p>Indulging him, Will replies, "The ache is only there when I'm apart from you." It is not a direct answer, but it is answer enough. </p><p>"You may continue," Hannibal says, and Will looks down at him, sighing at the way he moves his hands. The pain in his feet is ebbing away with every passing second.</p><p>"I decided after that to go to bed, though I knew I wasn't going to sleep soundly... I was a bit delirious; when I got in bed, I momentarily mistook Winston for you. It was probably around eleven when I got to bed. It was definitely already dark... Then, a couple hours later, I guess, I woke up again. Only I thought I was still asleep. I sat upright in my bed, and I saw something that felt like you."</p><p>"Felt like me," Hannibal prods.</p><p>"It wasn't. It was a black stag with antlers stretching towards the ceiling and it stood in front of my window. But I felt inexplicably drawn to it. Only, when I got up, it walked away from me. I pursued it and suddenly I was outside, thinking of you and believing I was still asleep. That was another thing; you are familiar with Zeno's Paradox, correct?"</p><p>"The paradox of being in pursuit of that which you are unable to catch, for by the time you have reached its position it is already several steps ahead of you. Yes, I am familiar. I have even mentioned this phenomena in my work." Will is unable to suppress a small smile at this.</p><p>"Yes, well this stag was a perfect example of the paradox. I tried to catch up to it, but it was impossible. I attributed this at the time to being inside of a lucid dream. But then the stag disappeared, and police lights showed up. I thought I was going to die. I checked my watch and it read three-forty-something. After that, I realized I wasn't dreaming and gathered my senses enough to think to call you."</p><p>They meet eyes. Hannibal stands up off of the floor, having sufficiently massaged away the soreness in Will's feet, and walks up to the side of the bed. Sitting next to Will on the end, Hannibal takes Will's left hand between each of his own. Will knows he intentionally took his left hand to put light pressure on the ring on his fourth finger, a plebian symbol of their love. Their love could not be contained by marriage or a ring, but there were legal benefits to marriage, and Will liked wearing something akin to a brand on his skin, marking that he was his husband's. Of course, they have scars that they have wittingly and unwittingly given each other, bite marks and stab wounds and the like, marks they'd gladly show off as they mean more than any set of rings could, but the general consensus seems to be that it would be distateful to display them. Hannibal moves his hands up Will's arm, one of his hands slipping under Will's short sleeves and touching upon one of his most recent markings, a bite he'd left a couple of days previously. </p><p>"I will always save you, Will," Hannibal tells him, pressing against the wound and making Will breathe in sharply. "Even from yourself. This is not a predicament we should want to find ourselves in again. Even so, I am glad you called upon me. Your safety was in jeopardy. I could tell, even just from your body language through the back windowshield that my arrival made you considerably less tense."</p><p>"You make everything, even the worst of things, bearable, if not pleasurable," Will says with a sigh.</p><p>"I only wish to better your life, my love." Will's facial expression softens in spite of the hand pressing against the bite mark. Hannibal pauses, likely for Will's sake. "Shall we continue this conversation under the covers?" Will knows this isn't innuendo. Even Hannibal, poised and controlled as ever, seems, in his own way, exhausted.</p><p>"Please."</p><p>Hannibal slips his hand out of Will's sleeve, then starts to pull Will's shirt over his head; he's not all that sweaty anymore, but he has already sweated enough that the shirt is just damp enough to be uncomfortable to sleep in. Hannibal goes over to the fireplace and grabs the small vial of baking soda near it, sprinkling some onto the fire as to cause it to start dwindling. Will watches him as he slips under the blanket. Hannibal starts to remove his clothing, walking towards the bed as he sheds his suit from his skin. Will is slightly surprised at this. Usually Hannibal never leaves his clothes strewn around the room unless they'd been cast aside as he and Will were in the throes of passion.</p><p>"You are more important than ensuring my clothes reside in the hamper overnight. Be sensible, my dear."</p><p>A hand pulls down the blanket, making Will shudder slightly. The warmth of the blanket is quickly replaced and added to as Hannibal slips into bed next to him, placing a protective arm over him.</p><p>"I don't feel... healthy. I feel dependent, pathetic. I've been losing myself, only tonight it got to the point where someone else found me before I did. I thought I was going to die. At the time, I thought I was still dreaming, but now I'm not so sure I wasn't just lying to myself. I was so confused. I was in pain and, while I wasn't thinking it at the time, I needed you. But I wonder, if I hadn't forced you up to come get me, if it would have been better." The intended <em>for you</em> after his final words is left unspoken. Hannibal needs not listen.</p><p>Pulling Will closer to him, Hannibal positions them so his mouth is against Will's ear. Will's eyes close instinctually. </p><p>"You know I'd shatter if I lost you, Will," Hannibal says in a low voice, echoing his words from what felt like days before. "I call you teacup, because you are mine and you are mine to break. I brand you with bites and scars, cracks in your perfect china. You are worn, and you are mine. I hold you in my hands close to me and protect you from my harm. But I am also the teacup in your hands. You have left your fair share of markings upon me. We are cracked, but we hold each other together. If one of us breaks, so does the other." Will is pulled impossibly closer, Hannibal's arms tight around his abdomen. "We are unsustainable alone. I cannot lose you."</p><p>"Why have you let me have such a hold on you," Will says with a small, bitter laugh. He sounds almost exasperated.</p><p>"We are alike," Hannibal replies simply. "I found you, and found I could not stand the possibility of a future where you were not mine. I confess; had you not been agreeable when I asked you to accompany me on a date, I likely would have killed and eaten you to keep you with me as long as possible. But you were agreeable, and now, years later, I have found that could no longer be an option. I could not bear to live without you holding me captive, and it seemed you felt the same. We belong to each other, Will."</p><p>Will brings a hand up to his abdomen and rests it on top of Hannibal's. The air changes around them. When Hannibal speaks again, his voice is more serious.</p><p>"This... this 'ache' you spoke of. How long have you experienced it, and how long have you been experiencing these blacking out periods where you lose time?"</p><p>"A... a couple of weeks, maybe a month," Will says cautiously.  Hannibal presses his nose into Will's hair, breathing in deeply. There is something in Hannibal's voice when he speaks again that should worry him, and he does notice it, but at that moment he doesn't have the mental capacity to analyze it.</p><p>"You should rest, dearest. It sounds as if you got a couple of hours of sleep at most. In the morning, after breakfast, we shall go to Noble Hills Healthcare and you will be given an MRI scan. I will take tomorrow off of work so that in the event something abnormal is found, we will be ready." Will has a nagging feeling in the back of his mind urging him to question Hannibal, but he finds he does not have the energy to. When Hannibal lets go of him, turning to take a sip from the waterbottle at his bedside, all thoughts of Hannibal's words vanish. </p><p>It feels disgustingly childish, but, as soon as he is hit with a wave of exhaustion, he is afraid. What was it the officer had asked before? <em>"Do you have a history of sleepwalking?" </em>What if he were to "sleepwalk" or experience whatever he'd went through before, again? What if he were to blink and find himself in the middle of incoming traffic?</p><p>"Hannibal," Will whispers, tone laced with need. "Will you protect me, Hannibal? I'm... I'm worried I'm going to lose myself again. I don't want to be lost, especially without you." He pauses. Even in his exhausted state, he finds it hard to be as vulnerable with Hannibal as he feels. "Will... Will you hold me? So I can't leave. I don't want to be lost," he repeats. Will feels Hannibal draw him in once again, holding him close and letting Will nuzzle against his chest. One hand is wrapped around him, the other is nestled in his hair.</p><p>"I will never allow you to lose yourself from me again. I love you. I will always protect you, beloved." Will closes his eyes, letting a hopefully-dreamless sleep overcome him. Hannibal echoes his words from earlier once again. "Even from yourself."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope you enjoyed reading this! This is my first Hannibal/Hannigram fanfic and I worked really hard on it! Let me know if you have a favorite part or have any constructive criticism for me! I've been writing for years now but I know I always have room to grow!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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